


In Too Deep

by Val_Creative



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Canon, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Force Choking, M/M, Polyamory, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6295387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps what he and Anakin have is no more than fleeting and produces bright sparks like durasteel being thunderously struck by a Jedi Knight's saber.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Too Deep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [provocation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/provocation/gifts).



> (Mentions of Anakin/Padmé which is why this is labelled poly! ♥ The story's focus is on Anakin/Obi-Wan!)
> 
> Thanks so much to **SW Gift Exchange** for hosting this! I wanna give my love to my beta reader **[greenboredom](http://archiveofourown.org/users/greenboredom)**! You were an amazing help and thank you a million times over. My giftee [varricvakarian](http://varricvakarian.tumblr.com/) had a wonderful list of prompts as well, and it was so difficult to pick! But as soon as I saw “ **force choking sin** ”… I knew I had to. I just knew it. So thank you. Any thoughts/comments on this would be so so appreciated! :) Never tried this pairing before so wooooo!

*

He should be tapping into holorecords, making detailed notes for the Council — and instead, Anakin clutches at Obi-Wan's robe sleeve, laughing softly and guiding him away.

Anakin greets Padmé while others stroll down the corridor, murmuring to each other about their business affairs. He embraces her and presses a small, tender kiss to Padmé's mouth, and then her brow, as she peers around Anakin to the other Jedi, who is waiting with his hands hidden and folded together.

Obi-Wan knows Anakin loves her.

And that, perhaps what he and Anakin have is no more than a fleeting thing that produces bright sparks, like durasteel being thunderously struck by a Jedi Knight's saber.

Who knows?

(It's exactly who this young man is — a _Knight_ , with his noble intentions and a charming, humble smile. He whispers proclamations of fondness and strong _emotions_ , and Obi-Wan knows _better_ than this. He does, and he's… he's weak for Anakin, it seems.)

Padmé, to his knowledge, has been made aware of the arrangement. She says nothing of it, ever the tactful and respected Senator — but her smile reaches her encouraging, beautiful eyes. Padmé nods to Obi-Wan before making her way back to her exceedingly patient entourage of fellow politicians and guards.

Anakin says his heart belongs to _two_ people, and that's not the ridiculous part.

Not at all — it's that his Master remains as _one_ of them. Someone who raised him on the ways of the Force; someone who considered Anakin as a padawan and a loyal friend.

 _Friend_.

It wasn't supposed to be like this for them — messy and complicated, full of needing, riding the urge to decrease the space between each other, and chasing for _touch_.

The skylanes roar outside with the whir of activity, of starships and airspeeders darting past the horizon draped in lapis blue. The magnificent, celestial view only fractured with cold, bleak stars, as they glow through the thin, auroral sheets of celadon and amaranth pink.

But in the enshrouding darkness, Obi-Wan feels _warmth_ and Anakin: the quick, hot puffs of his breathing, Anakin's eager mouth suckling red, swollen marks against Obi-Wan's upper chest and neck. He bites slightly on the arch, grinning with all of his teeth exposed as the older man bucks up into him, widening his legs. Obi-Wan groans incoherently and loud.

Anakin fucks him like it's a worshiping _ritual_ , slow and steady, building it up until Obi-Wan's senses threaten to heighten and spiral out of control.

He can smell the light, sweet oil Anakin used to open him up, through their perspiration and the stink of overly heated, enthusiastic sex. Obi-Wan spreads his fingers on Anakin's muscular thighs, sliding over them and grabbing hold of his buttocks, attempting to control and deepen the next set of rolling thrusts.

From the start, he's been a _tentative_ kisser with Obi-Wan, coming off as demure and unsure of himself, but _here_ — it's pleasantly irresistible, their opened lips crushing together. It's drawing out soft, pleading noises from Anakin as Obi-Wan reaches lower and tugs gently at his lover's scrotum.

Anakin's fingers — clad in the raw, black leather — brush over Obi-Wan's throat with a lingering, needy affection.

He _understands_ , Obi-Wan certainly does — because Anakin nearly _lost_ him over the course of a few days. Obi-Wan could have been lost to the events on Grievous's flagship, or to Count Dooku as he was driven to the point of unconsciousness, Obi-Wan's body thrown against a railing and almost crushed alive by a gigantic, heavy structure.

There's something dark and _unspoken_ in Anakin's eyes about what happened then, but Obi-Wan has learned that a man will carry his burdens his own way.

No matter what they are.

Anakin's cybernetic arm runs up to his elbow, glimmering like golden sun-rays in the light and reflecting a titanium color. Most of the time, he keeps it dutifully covered. Initially, and right after the medical procedure, Anakin had not been comfortable with anyone touching his new limb or shaking with that particular hand.

However, his friends had no such qualms, bringing him support and _love_.

Somewhere in the delirium, between the edge and the _plunge_ into absolute, numbing bliss, Obi-Wan entwines their fingers loosely and presses Anakin's cybernetic hand firmly to his own sternum. It's difficult to see in the unlit, shadowy bedroom, but he can imagine Anakin's pink, saliva-wet lips twitching up in approval, right above him.

Anakin's human, naked hand remains clasping Obi-Wan's hip, but the other lifts, hovering back to Obi-Wan's neck. Anakin then strokes a faint line towards the dip with his forefinger.

As soon as he feels Anakin halt his thrusts, still completely buried inside him, Obi-Wan senses a _change_. It's low and simmering with purpose — Anakin extends his Force outwards, silently using it like a covering. It's just below his fingers barely gripping Obi-Wan's throat. He's too far gone to scold him and Anakin _knows_ it, taking his clear advantage.

Anakin doesn't have to move his fingers, or clench them. The Force does it — applying more and more pressure, squeezing harder, until Obi-Wan's exhales turn into hoarse gasps.

It's nothing like battle — aggressive and _damaging_ , strangling the life out of him. Anakin chokes him without the malice of their enemies, and keeps it firm and neutral. He puts his entire concentration into it, as his hips begin thumping repeatedly once more into Obi-Wan's, driving his cock into him with those rough, circular motions.

He gets more erratic, like Anakin's _closer_ than before.

Obi-Wan feels it too, eyes straining open, unable to swallow, drool pooling out of the corners of his mouth. And, just, he needs Anakin to hold him down _harder_. To whisper those silly, _dangerous_ proclamations of fondness in his ear, when the arousal pools like molten fire in his belly.

But, he has no way to express it at this moment, as Anakin grunts and spends himself, rocking up tightly against Obi-Wan and jacking the base of Obi-Wan's cock. His naked, human fingers slip-sliding towards the inflamed, ridged cockhead. At the same time, Anakin's use of the Force grants him one last _squeeze_ around Obi-Wan's neck, nearly whiting out his vision. He comes into Anakin's slowing hand, pulse after pulse, trembling out raspy, moaning breathes.

Obi-Wan hisses out in pain when Anakin traces over the bruising, and he squirms out of reach.

"Sorry, Master," Anakin mumbles, retreating a little.

It takes a moment, but the other Jedi Knight eventually cards his fingers through Anakin's hair, pulling him down in a quick, breathless motion. Their lips push together. Obi-Wan's pale beard scratches up against Anakin's shaven cheek, leaving prickling, _sharp_ -feeling tingles on his skin, as both men seek out familiarity and _more_ intimacy in each other. Obi-Wan licks a path along the rim of Anakin's mouth, ending it with a tinier, sensual kiss.

With a content sigh, Anakin burrows up to him, untangling their legs. He wraps his arm possessively over Obi-Wan's sweaty midsection, glancing down on him.

"Better this time around?"

The coughing lets up, as well as the dizziness.

Obi-Wan nods without grimacing.

"Much better, thank you," he says conversationally, lying back against satiny, plush pillows. "You've improved yourself on… control, Anakin."

Praise is _praise_ , no matter the circumstances, and Anakin flushes. He lowers his face and presses it into Obi-Wan's shoulder. Or, rather poorly, he _hides_ it from him.

"I think I'm finally getting the hang of it…"

Obi-Wan's fingers stroke unhurriedly into dark golden locks, occasionally massaging Anakin's scalp. Soon enough, the other man quietly slumbers. He himself remains awake, mindful of the echoing throat pain and sensations of their fluids cooling on Obi-Wan's thighs and stomach.

He's in too deep.

Falling in _love_ with the Chosen One?

There's no brighter spark of _hope_ for Obi-Wan than this boy — this _man_. Anakin needs to be _incorruptible_ against the Dark Side, but his heart may be too pure for it.

They can… only wait for now, it seems.

*


End file.
